


Shut Your Pie Hole

by rikujo (helphiddlestoned)



Series: 25 Days of Fic [7]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 25 Days of Fic, Day 7: Pie, Gen, mince pies, there's no tag for the uk bros and ireland ugh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 21:58:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12944841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helphiddlestoned/pseuds/rikujo
Summary: Siblings are both a gift and a trial, and some days they’re more one than the other.





	Shut Your Pie Hole

**Author's Note:**

> I made it through one week! This lot are my favourite sibling group in Hetalia because I'm horribly biased.  
> Names: Ireland: Caitlin. Scotland: Alastair. Wales: Dylan. Northern Ireland: Liam. Hope you enjoy!

Arthur stood, looking out over the frost dusted garden from his bedroom window, taking in the crisp winter sunshine. Still without the first cup of tea of the day, he found himself groggy, only half absorbing all the things he’d normally grasp, but one thing in particular got through to him.

There was noise in the house, already.

It wasn’t past ten and yet there were voices downstairs, calling out to each other, muted clatters coming from the kitchen and the occasional crow of laughter.

There was something alien about having a house full of people for Arthur, these days. The old rooms were always so quiet day to day. He couldn’t even decide if he was happy about the change.

With a yawn and a sigh, he turned, leaving the relative peace of his bedroom, and sloped down the stairs. The hem of his dressing gown whispered across the wood as he descended into the hallway, but his focus was on taking a deep, measured breath before entering the kitchen. He would doubtless need the patience.

The smell of baking pastry hit him first, a warmth not present in the cool hallway washing over him, and he blinked distantly at the scene he found awaiting him. Then he frowned.

“It’s _nine thirty_.”

Caitlin looked up from where she was sliding fresh baked minced pies onto a cooling rack on the table, the rest of his siblings looking on around her. Arthur was more concerned about the smile she offered him than anything else.

“So it is, good to know you have a grasp of the time.” she returned.

“Why are you _baking_?” he gritted out, combing a hand back through his hair.

“Because we wanted mince-pies.” Alastair answered, already stealing one and, barely managing to keep hold of the hot pie, popping it on a side plate. “Are you going to be a stick in the mud about it or do you want one?”

“I definitely want one.” Liam piped up, skirting round Alastair to make a grab for one himself.

Arthur turned wearily to Dylan, who was leaning back against the corner of the cupboards behind Caitlin, calmly drinking tea. There was no point asking why Dylan had sat by and watched them make pies because once Caitlin decided she to do something there was no talking her out of it. Instead, he focused on the tea.

“Pass me the teabags.” he grumbled. Dylan dutifully reached behind him and handed Arthur the box when he moved to the counter.

“These are great, Cat.” Alastair said, dropping into a chair at the table and raising what remained of his pie in a toast to Caitlin as Arthur made himself tea.

Caitlin bit into one herself, then nodded. “They are, if I do say so myself.”

“They’re also _not_ breakfast.” Arthur muttered,

“You’re choosing the grumpy bastard route, then.” Alastair noted casually.

“I’m not _French—_ ”

“More’s the pity.” Alastair said quietly, a tiny smirk twitching onto his lips.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at it. “I’m not eating pastry for breakfast.” he finished crisply.

“Oh come on, they’re good, have one.” Liam said, reaching out to nudge to pies closer to him.

Arthur pursed his lips. “No, thank you.”

He went back to his tea instead, taking the first sip that morning with sweet relief. Liam shrugged, returning to eating his pie, and silence settled over the kitchen as the others all focused on food.

“Aw, you’re all quite sweet when you’re not yapping, you know.” Caitlin observed after a moment.

Arthur scoffed into his mug. “What a lovely sentiment for Christmas time. We’re nice when we shut up.”

“Don’t ruin it now, Arthur.” she retorted teasingly. “Besides, what was it you said last year when I asked if you wanted to come to midnight mass?”

“He said he wouldn’t drag his arse out of the house for some droning service if you paid him in solid gold.” Dylan recounted and Arthur sighed.

Caitlin nodded. “Yeah, that’d be it. Also a _lovely_ Christmas sentiment.” she finished sarcastically.

“I was tired.” Arthur defended half-heartedly.

Everyone in the room raised an eyebrow at him derisively, Liam even snorting, and Arthur went back to frowning into his tea—at least until Caitlin slid another small plate towards him, one of the mince pies settled in the middle of it.

“Eat that, you’ll be happier for it.” she ordered.

Arthur was not at all convinced about this, but she gave him that look; the _I’m older than you and I know best_ look—a rare thing to receive, at his age. Resigned, he reluctantly picked up the plate, lifting the pie to take a bite.

Pastry flaked, still warm, into his mouth, followed by delicious sweet filling. He paused, surprised by how genuinely good it was, and then surreptitiously leant in to take another bite. Dylan laughed softly, clearly having noticed, but Liam and Alastair seemed too absorbed with their own pies. Caitlin just smiled, turning to make tea herself with a nod.

Silently, for the first time since they’d all trooped in, Arthur wondered if they might make it through Christmas without killing each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated! You can also come and bother me at anglaisaph on tumblr ❤


End file.
